


Another Word for Home

by BlueDysania



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Dust is Murder, Fluffy, Horror is not two-timing, Implied Genocide, M/M, a few headcanons poking their head, despite it being the two bloodiest 'tales, kind of?, mentions of cannibalism, surprisingly not gory, that is what i call him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 09:42:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11145861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueDysania/pseuds/BlueDysania
Summary: He's just looking for someone to exist with. To understand, not judge him. Being a Sans from a universe like Dusttale can make that kind of thing hard to find. But Dust manages.





	Another Word for Home

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if these two are out of character. I'm getting the feel for them, along with some headcanons that you might see peeking out from behind the lines, so hopefully this isn't awful.
> 
> DUST is Murder, btw! I made that his nickname long before I ever realized the fandom had started using Murder, and it feels just awkward to use it. So I kept it Dust (I think it fits but to each their own I suppose).

The Sans were gathering again.

Dust watched the lines of code slowly converging to the Classic Universe on the terminal. There went Blue… Red and Razz… Lust… that little surge might have been Error existing near the timeline. Blinking slowly, he flicked a phalange to switch the display off though the machine continued to hum away. _Just in case the worse should happen we will be able to reach you_ , they said.

…Sure, whatever. His LV was a brand in his skull and Dust’s grin tightened. There wasn’t much he couldn’t handle anymore.

Pushing one creaking fist into his coat pocket, he jabbed a set of coordinates blind into the keypad. As the machine began to whir and vibrate Dust looked over his shoulder and smiled softly at his brother hovering just behind him.

“Hold tight, Papyrus.”

The ghastly stretch of his brother’s grin was comforting.

A slight tug, pinch, and then the feeling of every particle of his body and soul being _pulled_ -

And he was standing in a much more shabby looking basement. Casting a glance around, he thought it looked even more thrashed than usual. Must have been a rough few weeks since he’d been here last. Hopefully those two were eating okay… or maybe his lover had gone through some episodes down here.

Dust trudged through the mess, half-heartedly nudging things to the side with his rust and pink colored slippers. Ascending the stairs, he began to smell the odd decaying scent that so permeated this universe. It smelled like home.

Emerging into the snow fall, he looked over at the house just to the right of the shed and its darkened windows.

“Guess… he’s not home right now.” Dust muttered, making his way through the undisturbed snow.

“Undisturbed… since morning…”

Dust glanced at Papyrus, nodding once in agreement. The brothers of Horrortale must have gone on patrol today. It was nearing nightfall which meant that they would be returning soon enough. With no intention of startling his already murderous lover, Dust took a seat on the welcome mat and leaned back against the door with a small yawn.

As his eyelights extinguished and sockets closed, he felt the airy feeling of Papyrus’ scarf settling around him and smiled warmly, “Thanks bro.”

He fell asleep to his brother’s echoing laughter.

 

* * *

 

_Tap-tap-tap-tap_.

Dust woke up, abruptly conscience of the fact he was no longer ankles deep in the snow or even outside. He sat up, his left socket filling with an electric-esque violet glow that slightly illuminated the darkened room he was in. He was on his couch? No, the couch under his hand was slightly torn in places, very well worn. His own was in near-pristine condition. Papyrus always chided him to keep clean.

_Tap-tap-tap-tap_.

His ragged nerves were instinctively soothed at the familiar sound. He turned his head, finding the source even in the darkness. He had been laid on one end of the couch and at the other he found a single enlarged crimson eyelight staring at him unblinkingly. Any remaining apprehension he felt drained away at the sight of Horror’s ever-present malevolent smile. Yet, Dust couldn’t quite be pleased to see him. His lover was sitting against the arm of the couch, cross-legged, with blood stained phalanges drumming restlessly on his tibia. Though Horror was looking at him, Dust doubted that the cannibalistic skeleton was even aware that he’d sat up.

Sliding to his knees, he knelt and slid his own phalange across Horror’s. The fingers paused their movement for a moment, before curling up, and Horror’s eyelight finally seemed to _focus_ on him.

“Hello.” Dust whispered with a small smile, the quickening weight of this dangerous skeleton’s attentions breaking his ennui. In his peripheral, he saw Papyrus gliding away into the kitchen, eager red eyelights glimmering.

“Good evening, precious.” Horror drawled, his voice as gravely as Dust remembered. “Any reason you were sleeping in front of our door?”

“You weren’t home.” He answered plainly, settling back as he considered the other. There was something on his mind. Something deep if another slew of _tap-tap-tap-tap_ meant anything. “What is it?”

Horror’s grin curled into something anyone else would call possessed, “I think you’re pretty stupid sometimes, Dust.”

Stupid? That was okay. As long as he _didn’t **call him**_ -

“Oh? Why?” Dust questioned as sincerely as his fracturing concentration could manage. Sharp phalanx tips dug into his cheek, forcing Dust’s head to lower and lean closer to Horror’s. He barely noticed.

The speck of darkness in Horror’s eyelight had grown and narrowed like a feline, it sent small shivers down his spine from other times he had seen such a look. The tone of Horror’s voice stopped them cold.

“LOVE means nothing if you don’t see the killing strike, Dust.” Cold, splintering vocals in rage, “We walked right up to you. I held your skull in my hands…” Magic was leaking out of Horror’s socket with growing intensity. “I could have dusted you.”

Dust sighed silently, averting his eyes downwards. How to explain this to someone who had adapted to such a world as Horrortale? He barely had the chance to consider his options when another hand reached up, the other sliding across his cheek and this time Dust did wince as he felt the tips of Horror’s thumbs curling into his sockets.

“Are you listening to me?” Horror hissed, livid. His fingers were beginning to draw blood and Dust fidgeted at the thought of it slipping down onto his jacket. “ _Dust. I could have killed you!_ ”

The pain was invasive, inviting violet ecto-tears to leak from his sockets, but he forced his wavering eyelights to Horror’s.

“I would have woken up… if it had been anyone else.”

Horror glowered, grip unrelenting. Tears meant nothing to them when it came from physical pain. “And **why**. Would that be?”

“Trust you.” Dust forced his head closer, leaning further down to knock his forehead against Horror’s. “Anyone else…” His mouth twitched, curling into a ~~crazed~~ grin, “And their LOVE would have been _mine_.”

They sat there in the darkness of the room, a decaying world wrapped around them, silent. Slowly, Horror’s eyelight returned to normal as they stared at each other. The tension was bleeding out, Horror returning to malevolence and Dust to his languor.

“Trust?” Horror purred, releasing Dust’s sockets and clearing away the welled ecto-tears in one movement. Dust’s smile turned anxious. Eager for what would happen next.

Horror snarled deeply, lunging forward to knock him onto his back. Though smaller than Dust, the ferocity of his lover never failed to overpower him. That was how he _liked_ it. Sharp teeth ghosted over his collarbone. Teeth that had torn into countless monsters in order to turn them into food. He shivered, the danger sparking his eyelights to life with vibrant violet once more.

Let the Sans gather, let them be happy in their golden universes. This was all Dust needed. To be with someone who understood, who was as twisted as he and knew _why_. Someone who wouldn’t judge him for what he had done.

“Trust you.” Dust breathed out into the red and violet illumination…

… and was devoured throughout the night.

 

* * *

 

“SANS! WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT DOING THIS ON THE COUCH! I SIT ON THERE!”

“BROTHER… NOT SANITARY…”

Dust smiled into Horror’s ribcage, as Horror growled unsavory reply. It was warm under the blanket they shared and the humming in his bones as teeth indentations continued to heal with Horror’s proximity was intoxicating. He would have to get up some time, but he was a Sans despite everything, and after such a deep sleep he needed a nap.

**Author's Note:**

> Headcanon: Dust is at least two inches taller than Horror. Horror in turn likes to knock him over or lift himself over Dust so he can be 'taller'. Dust finds it endearing.
> 
> Headcanon: Dust breaks down bit by bit if called crazy/insane/mad. He lives with himself through delusion and justification, being accused of insanity starts to tear that support apart.
> 
> Headcanon: The line between phantom and hallucination is thin. Papyrus is either or both? Perhaps then, he is just a verbal conscious helping and enabling Dust.
> 
> Headcanon: In a world where there is no one left (or is there?), Dust tends to fall into his own head. Going to Horrortale, or anywhere other than his home universe, helps to break him out of that state.


End file.
